My great uncle Ed Horton died last week. He was 85. I’m going with my dad and Martha to his funeral in a little while.
I stand in complete awe at the incredibly full life he had. He was an Army captain and a World War II veteran, a college graduate, a hugely successful farmer and cattleman, a state senator, and sat on multiple boards of directors. He was a member of Belle Mina Methodist Church for more than 60 years. He was a loving father to three daughters, losing one to cystic fibrosis. I don’t remember how old Jean was when she died, but I doubt she was 30. (Edited: She was 31.)
Ed might also have been the kindest, sincerest, most eminently decent man I’ve ever known. And I know I’ve never met a more even-tempered person. That I (that pretty much anybody, I think) ever saw, Ed had exactly one mood. He was happy, content, thoughtful, and ceaselessly easygoing.
All of the children absolutely adored him. He had a real gift for relating to little people meaningfully, in a way that genuinely spoke to them without pandering to them. Some of my favorite childhood memories are at his house.
He was precious. The world is poorer. RIP.